I'll Be Seeing You
by Nala's Mom
Summary: Full summary inside. SBOC. This is a companion to Seems Like Only Yesterday. Takes place after Harry's third year and on from there. Rating is purely for safety reasons.
1. June 11, 1993, 2:48 AM

Disclaimer _I don't own Potter, wish I did, but I don't._

Summery _Last year, she returned from a work assignment in Greece to make her mother's old house a home again. Eight years ago, her mother and step-father left to tour the world. Twelve years ago, she stopped feeling sorry for herself. Nearly thirteen years ago, she learned she had never truly known him. Tonight, he's back. SB/OC._

A/N _This is a companion to S.L.O.Y: same universe, prequel, Renee's POV. Feel free to think of this as what Renee is thinking about during the events of chapters eleven and twelve (which will be posted as soon as I get this story out of my head and safely contained on my computer)._

**Warnings** _ANGST!_ _(Especially ch 1) There may also end up being some spoilers for book six; though they are entirely unintentional.

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I'll Be Seeing You

Chapter 1 June 11, 1993, 2:48 A.M.

Renee Walker was sound asleep and sprawled wildly across her double bed when she heard a small sound like tiny nails on a chalkboard. The sound bore its way into her eardrums and took on a very surreal quality as it interrupted her dreams. She kicked and flailed about in a panic that only her own sub-conscience could induce in her. The sheets became tangled around her body becoming snakes in her dream, and then she and the snakes rolled off a cliff and... She fell hard on the floor of the master bedroom of her childhood home.

She looked around frantically, trying to figure out where she was. The scratching sound came again. She jumped up, kicked and shook the sheets from her, and swept the curtains of long blond hair away from her eyes. Her pajamas felt sticky, and she realized she was doused in a cold sweat. "Oh for crying out loud!" she exclaimed at her overreaction, "It's just the wind rubbing a tree branch against the window." She moved to look out the window above her bed, but before she'd moved two inches, the noise came again from the direction of the sliding glass door. "_Odd?_" she thought, _"There's no tree over there."_ Curious, she moved to the door, flung open the drapes, opened the door six inches or so, stuck her head into the gap and looked out at her backyard.

It was exactly as she had left it the evening before. The old tire swing still hung from the mulberry tree. She smiled, remembering when her step-father put it there. The still broken shed door lent in on the contents, revealing a push power mower through the space. _It didn't matter; there wasn't anything worth stealing in there. _The weeds were still in the vegetable garden. _That was something she needed to do tomorrow_. The grass stood still, reflecting the light of the moon that had been full only two nights ago. "_Strange_," she thought. There were no rustling leaves or bending bows either. The night was utterly still.

Then, she heard an altogether different sound from a spot just in front of her on the ground. It was a soft whine, a whine she recognized. She looked down and immediately gasped and stepped back in surprise.

An over-grown, flop-eared, jet-black mutt was sitting on her back doorstep and staring up at her with enormous grey eyes. That was what had scared her. There was no color in those eyes anymore. She glared down at the familiar shaggy head, and growled, "You."

The dog let out another whine in answer and made a sudden jerking motion as though thinking to slip through the space between her leg and the doorway and into the house.

She stepped forward to block the opening and let him know, through body language, that under no circumstances was he allowed in her home. Technically, the house belonged to her mother, but, as her mum and step-dad were off touring the world at the moment, she was queen of this particular castle. "You shouldn't be here, Padfoot," she told the mangy canine. "I'm going to give you exactly ten seconds to make yourself as scarce as you have been for the past twelve and a half years, or," she snarled,** "I'll do it for you."**

The dog just stared at her, begging silently for her not to turn him away.

"One."

The dog didn't move.

"Two!"

He whined.

"Three!"

He whined more desperately.

"**Four!**"

There was a rush of movement, a soft thudding of paws on concrete, a rustle of leaves, and the dog vanished into the bushes that lined the corner of the house.

She stuck her head out the door again and looked around for him. _"Could it really have been that easy?_" she wondered. She pulled her head inside and looked at her clock; it read 2:51 AM. She suddenly felt as though she were asleep on her feet. Maybe she truly was, and this was all part of that dream with the snakes.

Her last thought before she fell back onto her bed, without bothering to recover the covers, was that he was lucky he'd come in the middle of the night, when her brain wasn't completely functioning, or he would have found himself packaged to become soulless before he could get out his first whine.

She was just nodding off, when she heard the nails scritch on the blackboard again. She sprang from her bed, snatched her wand out of the special pocket in her pajama pants and ran to the back door. She stood with her back to it, James Bond style, for a second. Then, she flung the door open and jumped into the gap, pointing her wand directly between the eyes of the dog.

He didn't even look at her. The instant the door was open, he skidded between her splayed legs and into the room. She followed the motion with her eyes and wand and turned to face the mongrel. She reached behind her to close the door. _She should have bound him by now! Why hadn't she fired the spell? Why was she worrying about the door? What was wrong with her? _She convinced herself it was because he hadn't tried to attack her yet.

She noticed he was holding something in his mouth. It looked like a rolled up bit of parchment. He dropped it at her feet and backed away, whining. His head jerked from the parchment to her to the parchment again. He whined a little louder.

Glaring still and keeping her wand on him, she bent down to pick it up. "What's this?" she asked, directing her question at what only a second earlier had been a shaggy, flea-bitten cur.

"It's a note from a friend of ours," the man, who was still a flea bag, still shaggy, and still a cur despite his change in appearance, told her, in a gruff voice that was very different from the rich base she had been expecting.

"No friend of yours could ever be one of mine, traitor," she told him. Icicles hung on her every syllable.

"Please," he begged with as much honesty as a scumbag traitor could muster, "Just read the note and give me the chance to explain."

"Why should I do that?" He didn't seem to have an answer for her. "What I should do is tie you up and hand you over to the dementors. I've heard that a _snog_ session with them is rather **unforgettable**."

True fear registered on his face. "Please," he tried again, "Give me five minutes. If you don't like what I have to say, I'll..."

"You'll what?"

"I don't know. What do you want me to do?"

"_I want you to still be the man I fell in love with," _she thought, but there was _no way _she could tell him _that_. "First, give me your wand." He looked surprised. "The one in your pocket."

"How did you-"

"You'd be amazed," she dead-panned. "Out with it," she ordered, "Slowly."

Painstakingly, he moved his hand to his pocket and inched a long straight piece of dark wood out from it. "Now," she continued her instructions, "Hold it by the wrong end, drop it on the ground, and kick it to me." He complied.

"_Incarcerous,_" she ordered. Thousands of flexion chords flew out of her wand and wrapped themselves around the man's wrists and ankles, binding them together and pulling his hands behind his back. He fell backwards as his ankles became to tightly tied for him to keep his balance. "Alright, Black," she told him as she pocketed both wands. "You wanted five minutes, so I'll give you five minutes, but you'll have to take them as you are. Fair enough?"

"Beautiful," he agreed from his spot on the floor. "But I have one question first."

"What's that?"

"Why didn't you just use the disarming spell?"

"I wanted to see if you would do it," she said before she could stop herself as she set a timer on her watch. "Your five minutes have started."

"You have to read the note first."

"Very well," she said as she turned on a light, broke the seal on the note and read. It was a long, very official note, was not addressed and was signed Remus J. Lupin. It was in his hand writing. She raised her eyes slowly from the parchment. "Do you honestly expect me to believe any of this?"

"I expect you to believe the truth."

"And what _is_ the truth?"

"Well, I haven't read it, but I assume what's written on that parchment. I don't think Remus would lie to you about something like this."

"No, Remus, unlike you, is a decent, trustworthy person, and Remus, _unlike you_, wouldn't lie, but Remus, **unlike you**, did not write this note."

"What are you-"

"OH COME OFF IT, BLACK! _YOU_ WROTE THIS NOTE IN REMUS' HANDWRITING AND SIGNED HIS NAME! DO YOU THINK I WAS BORN YESTERDAY?"

She was fuming. She paced the floor in front of him, breathing hard through her nose and reminding herself of a wild bull rhinoceros. All the pain and frustration built up over the course of twelve and a half years was escaping from her. She wanted to teach him the fate of traitors, but_ no that chore would be saved for the dementors_.

"Renee, I..."

"Don't say that!"

"Your name?"

"MY FIRST NAME, YOU IDIOT! THERE YOU ARE SAYING IT LIKE WE'RE FRIENDS!" She paused to let that sink in, then continued. "WE'RE NOT FRIENDS, BLACK! WE'RE NOT EVEN ACQUAINTANCES!" She forced herself to find a measure of control and then spoke in a heated whisper, "I don't even know you."

She stopped pacing to glare at him some more, but when she noticed his face, it gave her pause. He looked... lost. Renee could see pains she did not understand swelling in him and surfacing on his once overly-handsome face. _She'd loved that face once, but no, the man she loved was dead. This one had killed him._

"R-" he started but cut himself off at the look she gave him. "Look, I don't know how I can prove that Remus wrote that note, but I can prove that what was written is the truth."

"I thought you said you hadn't read it," she mocked.

"I know the general idea," he informed her.

She crossed her arms and glared some more. "Alright, you say you have proof. Let's hear it then."

"It's..." he broke off, looking rather lost again. "It's in my pocket."

"What?"

"The proof is in my pocket."

"I don't understand," she sighed.

"Look in my pocket and you will," he encouraged, shifting his weight to his right side to indicate she should look in his left pocket. "Or you could untie my hands?" he said questioningly when he saw the look on her face.

"Nice try." She knelt next to him and put her hand in his pocket. She felt something thin and papery. "More parchment?" she asked, giving him a confused look.

"Yes."

She pulled it out. It appeared to be a newspaper clipping folded over once. "This is your proof?" she asked skeptically, "An article in a twelve-year-old paper?" It was almost laughable.

"It's not a twelve-year-old paper," he told her. "It's an eleven-month-old paper."

Now, she was actually curious. He'd only broken out of Azkaban _ten_ months ago. "How'd y-"

He interrupted her, "Work with me will you."

She stood up and unfolded the paper. It showed a very large family of people smiling and waving in front of a pyramid. "The Galleon Draw winner took his family to Egypt with the money. So?" she asked, now highly skeptical. "How does that prove Lily and James would switch secret keepers without telling Dumbledore or any of the other nonsense you want me to believe?"

"IT ISN'T NONSENSE!" he bellowed, then took a few slow breaths to calm himself. "It's the truth. The whole _point_ was to keep the switch a secret. The more people we informed, the more likely it was to get out. Yes!" he added at her look, "Even Dumbledore."

"So what does this picture have to do with it, then?"

"R- Walker?" he started a hypothetical question, "If Peter Petigrew were sitting right in front of you alive and well, what would you ask him?"

"Peter is de-"

"Answer the question."

Feeling affronted, Renee told him sardonically, "Oh I don't know. Maybe I'd be wondering how he managed to survive a curse that completely disintegrated him except for his finger!"

"Funny thing, disintegration, isn't it," he commented, dryly. "It's the only type of death that leaves no body behind on which to take a pulse for _proof _that the person is dead." Renee just stared at him. "You can't search for a pulse on a severed finger, Renee, nor would you find on that finger any indication of the location of the rest of the body. The only proof to be had is the suspicious _lack_ of said body. But if you found the rest of the body somewhere, it would be _easy_ to see where the finger should be."

"You're insane," she gasped.

"Am I?" he laughed, undeterred. "The boy in the center, he has a rat sitting on his shoulder."

She gaped at him for a solid minute. She looked at the newspaper clipping in her hand. She studied the picture closely, searching for the boy he'd mentioned. She dropped the clipping and stood frozen for a second. Then, she bent down to pick up the clipping and look again. He was still there. The only rat in the world she would recognize at a glance was sitting on the shoulder of a blissfully unaware teenaged boy. As she looked closer, pressing her nose right against the parchment, she could see that one of the toes that would correspond to the index finger of a human was missing completely.

Renee looked at Sirius Black as though seeing him for the first time, the gaping look still firmly planted on her face.

"You see it?" Sirius asked.

After a long pause in which Renee tried to make her mouth work, she whispered, "Yes."

This was the proof she'd been searching for, hoping for, _begging_ for, through years of being told the man she loved had betrayed her best friend and his own best friend to Voldemort. This was a photo of Peter, the real traitor, alive and well more than eleven years after his supposed murder, and only those who knew his illegal animagus form, Wormtail, would ever know.

Renee dropped to her knees beside Sirius. The alarm on her watch had gone off while she had been studying the photo, but she was liking what he had said too much at this point to care. She continued to stare and gape. "S-Sirius," she gasped, "H-how?"

"He used me," Sirius growled, "He knew we hadn't told anyone of the switch. He knew the ministry would be coming after me, not him." He looked away from her and his eyes glazed over. "He knew I'd be coming after him." He was silent for a long moment, his eyes haunted and far away.

She reached a hand out as though to touch his arm, but stopped herself. Instead, she prompted him, "Sirius?"

He looked at her. Then, he shut his eyes and turned away in shame. She knew that look. She'd worn it herself more times then she could count. He was crying, but he didn't want her to know. "I'm sorry," he murmured so quietly she thought she had misheard him.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't think. I didn't even consider what I was doing and what it might do to you. I just acted." He looked thoroughly miserable and choked hard on his words as he said. "When I saw... the house, and... their bodies,... and Harry... Hagrid was taking him... to live with his aunt and uncle, and I... lost it!"

She stared at him some more as his body shook with suppressed sobs. She made a decision, pulled out her wand, and severed the bonds on his hands. He looked at her with wide, wet eyes. "I forgive you Sirius," she told him plainly. "I probably would have done the exact same thing." His eyebrows knit. "Though _I _would have gone after him in tiger form. It would have been more fun that way." She offered him a quick, evil, toothy grin, then, cut the bonds on his feet and said firmly, "I believe you."

"How?"

She took a second to compose herself and her answer. "I'd suspected for the longest time that Peter was the one among us most likely to be the spy, but I never said anything. There were too many fingers pointing as it was. I didn't need to point one at my own step-brother." She shook her head dejectedly and clamped her eyes shut to hold back the tears. "You aren't the only one who's sorry, Sirius. I am. I'm sorry for not speaking up sooner." Her voice broke on the final word, and she had to look away. _Why did she always do this? She hated it when she cried, especially in front of people. _It made her feel weak_, needy. Renee Walker was many things, but she was not needy. _She clenched her fists and let out a frustrated growl through her clamped teeth. She felt like hitting something. Her anger only made the tears flow harder.

Renee felt a pair of arms wrap around her firmly. She vaguely recognized that they belonged to Sirius. "Don't," he told her, leaving no room for argument. "Don't do that. Don't get angry with yourself for crying. You have every right to cry." Then as though he had read her mind, he insisted, "You are not weak, Renee. You are the strongest person I know."

"_What a load of bull!"_ Renee thought, but she felt herself relaxing into his arms anyway. She wrapped her own arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. He moaned softly and held her just a little tighter.

"Forgive me," she murmured when she was able to control her breathing again.

"You don't need me to forgive you, Renee," he murmured back. "You need to forgive yourself."

She pulled back from him. "You, Sirius Black, are a hypocrite!" She rose to her feet and turned to leave the room.

"What are you talking about?" She turned back to see he was also on his feet and staring after her, completely bewildered.

"There you are, spouting all this 'forgive yourself/allowed to cry' stuff! Did you ever consider taking your own advice?" she almost yelled.

He gaped at her, dumbfounded, "Renee, I... That's different."

"No, it isn't," she argued, "It's not in the least different!"

"You don't even know why I was crying."

"I don't need to know. _You _should be allowed to cry if I am."

"Alright," he conceded, unwillingly, "I'll let myself cry next time. Will that make you happy?"

"No!" He stared. "You still have to forgive yourself."

"_You_'re the one I hurt; yours is the forgiveness I need."

"And you have it, but you _still _have to forgive yourself."

He lowered his eyes to the floor, "I don't know if I can do that just yet."

"That makes two of us, then."

They stood in silence for a minute, each thinking what to say next. Renee spoke first, "Sirius?"

"Hmm?"

"You stink," she told him honestly. He sniffed himself and made a sour face, agreeing with her. "And you _look_ terrible."

He glanced down at himself and laughed out loud. "I do look rather worse for wear, don't I?"

"Yes, you do," she stated flatly. "I'm going to give you..." She checked her watch, which now read 3:27AM. "Half an hour to be in the kitchen ready for breakfast. That means washed, dressed, and clean shaven." She motioned in the direction of the door to the attached master bath.

"Clean shaven?" he asked, scandalized as he rubbed his beard defensively. "Surly not!"

"Don't call me 'Shirley.' Yes, Sirius, clean shaven. You look like an escaped prisoner."

He laughed, "If the shoe fits..."

She shook her head. "Not in this case. _Innocent_ prisoners don't get to keep their beards."

"Who says?"

"I do."

"And who put you in charge?"

"Let me put it this way," she reasoned, pointedly, "I don't kiss bearded faces."

The playful smile dropped from his mouth and his eyes bulged. "You-"

"Half an hour," she repeated cheerily as she slipped out of sight. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, trying to catch her breath. _Whatever had possessed her to say _that_? Now he had the wrong idea. _But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how likely it was that it was _she_ who had the wrong idea. She pushed herself off the door and went in search of some of Patrick's old clothes to offer to Sirius to wear instead of the twelve-year-old prison garb he was currently dawning.

Catherine Chambers Pettigrew and her second husband Patrick had decided to travel light and, consequently, left much of their wardrobes behind. Renee doubted very seriously that Patrick would miss a single set of plan, work robes. After she found what she had been looking for in the attic, Renee returned to the spot of hallway outside the master bedroom.

She listened for the sound of running water, and, on hearing it, cautiously opened the door and slipped inside. She crossed to the bed and laid the clothes out where he could clearly see them. Then, she slipped out again and let out the breath she'd been holding.

After that, she went to make that breakfast she'd mentioned. It was still not even four in the morning, but, considering how thin he looked, she knew it wouldn't matter what time of day he ate next, just that he ate. She opened the refrigerator and cupboards and pulled out anything and everything she could turn into a breakfast food. She searched the items she had available and her memory for an idea of what to make. Her eyes slid from the large bag of hotcake mix to the slightly over-ripe bananas in the fruit basket by the window. She set to work.

Twenty-five minutes later and forty-two minutes after she'd left him, Sirius announced his arrival in the kitchen and living room end of the house by saying, "Hmm, that smells fantastic."

"_You_ are late," she told him, not bothering to look up from her work.

"I'm sorry," came the statement from a location much closer to her own than the last. "I didn't intend to be. How late am I?"

Renee checked her watch and told him, "Twelve minutes and twenty-three seconds." She glanced up to see his reaction. His hair was still long and mangy and dripping from the shower but clean. His body was now, thankfully, grunge-free and dressed in the robe she'd found for him. His face was red from copious amounts of scrubbing and bore a look of slight exclamation at the exactness of her answer. His beard was, just as she'd requested, shaved. She turned back hastily to focus on not burning the hotcakes she still had in the pan.

He moved to stand next to her and asked, "What are you cooking?"

"Banana Ramma Hotcakes," she told him expertly as she slipped the finished ones from the pan and poured in more batter.

"Banana...?"

"Banana Ramma Hotcakes," she repeated turning to him curiously. "You remember them, right? I only made them for you a million times." His expression was lost again. His now colorless eyes were frosted over as he stared at the bubbling batter in the pan. "Sirius?" she asked cautiously.

He walked away and faced the counter. "I can't remember," he said guiltily. "I want to remember." He turned back furiously and his voice broke. "But I can't."

"Sirius, it's alright. You don't have to remember. They're just hotcakes." She tried to sound understanding as she flipped said cakes; she truly did not understand what he was getting so upset about.

"It's not just the hotcakes, Renee! It's everything!"

She turned to him again spatula in hand. "How do you mean?"

"I don't remember anything!" Sirius virtually shouted in his frustration. He calmed a bit and explained, "When Remus handed me that note, I had no idea what he wanted me to do with it. He told me that if I needed a less obvious place to stay for awhile, that note might get my foot in the door. I didn't remember _you_ at all until I was flying over and saw the school... and then the house." He started pacing.

"The house?" Renee asked, confused. "Sirius, my house looks exactly like every other house on the block, especially from the air." Then, she thought of something else odd about what he had said, "What do you mean you flew over?"

"I saw the school first," Sirius said, ignoring her other question. "And I had a vague feeling that I knew it somehow. I flew lower, and then I saw the oak tree."

"The oak tree?" she echoed again.

"Yes, I spotted the oak tree out front," he stopped pacing and looked at her. "And I remembered pretending to be monkeys in that tree with you."

"Now, that's what I've always wanted to be remembered for," she laughed in her embarrassment and turned back to her cooking. "Being a monkey."

"I also remember." She could hear the grin in his voice, "That we used to pretend to groom each other." Renee groaned. "It's the first truly happy memory I've thought of since... getting out." She turned to him with pity in her eyes. He smiled shyly and brushed a lock of hair from her face. She leaned into the touch, forgetting herself for a few seconds. Then, he finished his thought with what, to Renee, was a most unwelcome idea, "Searching through your hair for all the invisible bugs I could eat."

"_Well, that ruined the moment!" _she thought, as she whisked around to take the hotcakes from the pan. "Speaking of eating," she changed the subject, while handing him a plate with a stack of hotcakes and two slices of bacon. "Take this, and go sit down." He took it and left the kitchen for the dining room, and she was able to breathe properly again.

She made up her own plate, poured two glasses of orange juice, and followed him. He was sitting at the table, staring at his plate, and looking awkward.

"Something wrong?" she asked, wondering if she had burned them and hadn't noticed.

"You don't have to do this," he muttered.

"What are you talking about?"

"Feeding me," he explained, "I feel like I'm free-loading."

"Well, you better get used to that feeling, Sirius, because you're sleeping here the rest of the night as well... such as it is."

"Renee..."

"There were three things I noticed in your appearance when you first arrived." She ticked them off on her fingers, giving separate emphasis to each and leaving no room for argument. "One, you needed a shower and clean clothes. Two, you needed food. And three, you needed rest. I'm going to make sure you get all three if it's the last thing I do." He started to object, but she cut him off, forcefully, "Sirius! You haven't slept in a proper bed for nearly thirteen years."

He shut his mouth and looked back at his plate. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"You're welcome."

They started eating, and the conversation turned to food. When Renee couldn't stand it any longer, she changed the subject. "How, exactly, did you _fly_ here?"

"I rode Buckbeak."

She raised her eyebrows.

"He's a hippogriff the ministry was going to execute. We escaped from Hogwarts together." Renee could not suppress the smile that played at the corners of her open mouth. "Yeah," Sirius laughed, "I thought you might be interested in that."

"May I meet him?" she asked excitedly.

"Of course." He finished his last two bites of bacon, got up from the table, transformed, bounded over to her front door, and barked excitedly, motioning for her to follow him.

"You've got him in the _front_ yard?" she asked the dog, incredulously.

He gave her an exasperated look and shook his head then barked again and wagged his tail.

"Alright, give me a minute," she said standing up, "_You _may be appropriately attired for an early morning constitutional, but I'm not going on any walks in my nightclothes."

Ten minutes later, she returned with her hair done into one long braid down her back and wearing jeans and a t-shirt. On seeing her, the 'dog' barked approvingly and stared at her with his tongue lolling out.

"Padfoot," she asked him, "Are we going on a walk or are you going to make passes at me?"

Padfoot sucked in his tongue and barked again. His tail wagging all the while, he ran to the door, jumped on it, ran to her, stopped just short of jumping on her, and ran back to the door again.

"Okay, Padfoot," she said, dawning a high exited voice that never failed to irritate him when he was being irritating, "You wanna go for a _walk_? Yes, you do, don't you? Come on. Let's go for a _walk_!" He whined. She walked passed him to the door and patted her legs, calling to him, "Come on, Padfoot, that's a good boy! What a good doggy you are! _Yes_."

He transformed back and crossed his arms. "I refuse to be spoken to like that."

"Hey! Don't blame me! You're the one who picked it."

"You would have found other ways to tease me if I'd picked one of the others."

"Why? What were they?"

"Never mind."

"Oh come on. I'll tell you mine."

"Maybe some day, not right now." He went back to dog form and leapt at the door again, tail wagging.

"Alright then, suit yourself," she conceded. Then, opening the door, she adopted the high voice again, "Come on, Padders! We're going far a walkie!"


	2. June 11, 1993, 5:04 AM

Disclaimer _The movie quotes, once again, belong to Disney._

A/N _Thank you to the two of you who reviewed. _

Chapter 2 June 11, 1993, 5:04 A.M.

As they walked along in the pale morning light, Renee had to smile at Sirius. It was painfully obvious it had been a while since he'd had this much freedom. He would bound ahead of her about twenty feet, find something interesting to sniff at, thoroughly examine it until she caught up, and then bound ahead again. The pristine lawns and cookie-cutter houses of the London suburb had never been quite so disturbed.

"Padfoot, I'm not picking that up," Renee insisted, pointing dejectedly at the slobber-coated stick he had just dropped at her feet. He whined piteously, sat on his haunches and gave a bark of encouragement. She sighed, bent down, and grasped the end of the soggy bit of wood between two fingers. "Alright, if you insist," she accepted, feigning annoyance. "Fetch!" She threw the stick with all her might further down the sidewalk.

He charged after it, leapt into the air, and caught it while it was still six feet off the ground. Then, he ran back and dropped it into her waiting hand. They repeated this process numerous times, until Renee threw the stick and Sirius watched it go, panting madly. "Tired?" she asked. He nodded vigorously.

They rounded a corner and Renee recognized the path they were taking. "Padfoot?" she inquired, as they started past the playground of an old grade school. "Are we going where I think we're going?" The rising sun reflected off a slide and swing set with which she was intimately familiar. He kept walking as though he hadn't heard her. "Padfoot?" He looked at her over his shoulder, nodded solemnly, and started running. She followed.

They ran past the school and down a side street until they reached a park. They turned down the street that bordered it and put the park on their right. Padfoot didn't stop until he had reached a house somewhere in the middle.

He waited for her to catch up, then ran to and scrambled over the backyard fence. She heard a latch click open, and, after catching her breath, followed him through the gate, closing it behind her.

"Padfoot," she called. No answer came. She took several cautious steps and shifted to a whisper. "Sirius?"

Something behind her grabbed her arm. She yelled and jumped in surprise, spinning around in mid-air and landing, at full alert, in her animal form. Sirius started to laugh at his little prank, but stopped short when he saw her deep brown cat-shaped eyes narrow and heard the growl start in her throat. "Renee, I..." he started, backing away. She licked her chops. He took another step back. "Stripes, please! I didn't mean to scare you like that! I was just...Ahh!" He cried out in fear at the idea of becoming snack to a very large albino-white Bengal tiger. She leapt on him and they landed hard on the garden path. Just as he looked ready to wet himself, Stripes licked him affectionately and turned her growl into a purr.

"Merlin, Stripes!" he cried as soon as she was off him. "What d'you do that for? I could've had a heart attack!"

"Just a little payback," she told him casually, returning to her human form, "Besides, you're much too young to have a heart attack. Mess your pants, maybe..." She broke off laughing.

"That's not funny," he stated seriously, glaring at her.

"Oh yes, it is!" she exclaimed, still laughing fit too burst.

He groaned. "Look! Do you want to meet Buckbeak, or not?"

She stopped laughing. "Of course." Now that she was here, there was no way she was passing up the opportunity.

"Alright, then. Follow me, and keep to the center of the path." Sirius informed her rather belatedly, as he led the way around the corner of the house. "I don't know what might be growing in here."

"Which begs the question," Renee asked, as she turned away from the curious herb she'd been examining and made to follow him. "Why did you leave Buckbeak here in the first place?"

"This house and the yard are unplottable, and anything else my dear old dad did to fend off prying Muggle eyes." he explained hurriedly, as though trying to say it without having to think about it. "It was the only place I could think of where he could stay hidden." He stopped as they reached a small clearing in the foliage that, covered in a patch of knee-high grass, constituted what was left of the lawn. "Wait here." With that, he shifted back into Padfoot and disappeared behind a tree of unidentifiable parentage, or at least for Renee.

She heard snapping of twigs and shifting of bows, and then Padfoot returned, holding the end of a length of chain in his mouth and leading the creature attached to its other end into the clearing.

"Oh!" Renee gasped at the sight of the animal that was half-eagle, half-horse. She recovered quickly, however; she knew Buckbeak, if he were anything like his fellows, would not appreciate someone gawking at him from three feet away. What he _would_ appreciate, and what she was perfectly willing to give him, was respect. She took a step back with her right foot and swept her hand in front of her in a deep bow worthy of either a twelfth century knight in shining armor or a twentieth century maiden in t-shirt and jeans. _"Maiden, ha! That's laughable. Am I honestly still young enough to call myself a maiden? Then again, I am a witch. I have nearly twice the normal human life-expectancy, maybe I haven't _quite_ reached the age of what could be called 'old maid,' just yet."_

Unaware of the direction Renee's thoughts had taken, Buckbeak eyed her closely and then bowed in return. She stepped to him immediately and stoked his beak affectionately. "He's beautiful," she sighed.

Buckbeak narrowed a questioning eye at Sirius, who was fully human again and standing at his side. "Take it from me, my friend," Sirius told him, heartily. "That's quite the compliment coming from her. She _knows_ her birdbrains." Buckbeak sent him a piercing glare that would have eaten strait through most titanium walls. "I suppose I should say _eagle_-brains," Sirius corrected himself quickly. "Which, of course, are by no means comparable to ordinary _bird_brains. Renee here has quite a long history with gryphonic creatures." He turned his eyes on Renee, who had been watching him interact with the fantastic beast as though watching a tennis match, and softened his voice as he said, "And a great love for them as well."

She turned to him at his change of tone and told him, "So much for not remembering."

"It comes in flashes," he admitted, "Bits and pieces."

She rested her hand gently on his arm and looked in his eyes. "It'll come back, Sirius." For a second, she thought she could see a flicker of blue amid the clouds of grey. Then, it was gone. His eyes slid down to focus on her hand. They each stared at it for an instant, and she pulled back and returned to focusing on the head of her newest feathered friend. "Why would anyone, even the Ministry, think it necessary to execute Buckbeak? He doesn't seem the least bit dangerous. Quite the contrary, actually. All he did was _glare_ when you called him a birdbrain."

"That's because he knows me and he knows I didn't mean it like that," Sirius explained. "When Lucius Malfoy's little demon child called him a 'great, ugly brute' he knew full well the brat meant every word."

"Wait a minute, I read about this in the Prophet, the Education Section I think." Renee said, then asked "Malfoy called him a _what_?" She turned to the hippogriff, "No wonder you attacked him." She turned back to Sirius and asked seriously, "Was Malfoy _trying _to commit suicide?"

"Oh no, he wasn't quite that stupid. He knew Hagrid wouldn't let Buckbeak kill him. He was trying to get Hagrid fired, more than anything else. At least, that's Remus' opinion on the subject. I've never had the _'pleasure'_ of meeting the Malfoy heir as a teenager myself, but Remus said Draco was quite looking forward to ending Hagrid's teaching career."

"That's horrible! Hagrid is great with magical creatures! I'm not so sure about the teaching bit, but..." she broke off not knowing exactly how she would defend the introduction of a gryphonic creature on the first day, especially to a class that included Slytherins. It might have been better for him to start with a topic with which respect is _commanded_ rather than necessitated. Unicorns, for instance, would have done nicely, not even that smarmy Malfoy git's son could find something to insult in _them_, and even if he did, the unicorn itself wouldn't care. "We all make mistakes," she finished lamely. "I'm sure he'll get better at it as time goes on."

"Yeah, I guess so," Sirius muttered, obviously distracted, and Renee knew in which direction his thoughts had turned.

"Sirius, it was not your fault."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, startled from his thoughts.

"Lily and James, it wasn't your f-"

"That's rich coming from someone who doesn't even know me," he interrupted.

His use of her earlier words caught her off guard and she stared into the distance, mindlessly stroking the plumed neck in front of her, before she responded, "I- I'm sorry I said that, Sirius. Those words weren't meant for you."

Sirius nodded to show he understood, though his eyes remained downcast. Renee knew, however, that Sirius did not understand what she meant and his next words confirmed it. "I thought I knew him. I thought I had him all figured out. WHAT DOES VOLDEMORT WANT WITH A SNIVELING WORM LIKE PETER?"

The person she had meant those words for was not, in fact, Peter. She had meant them for the man to whom she had been speaking, or rather, the man to whom she _thought_ she had been speaking. She had always known Peter the actor, Peter the liar, Peter the coward; it was Peter the hero that she'd found tough as nails to swallow, even while Alex tried to convince her that she was setting up camp on the bank of a river in Egypt. Nevertheless, swallow it, eventually, she had, right after she forced down its counterpart: Sirius the traitor.

"I don't know, Sirius," she answered his question. "I assume it had something to do with being the easiest target near enough to Lily, James and Harry."

"Easiest target," he gruffed. "That's what I thought Remus was."

"Remus?" she asked, beyond the scope of skeptically, "Are you kidding?"

"No, I'm not. He had something Voldemort wanted, and Voldemort was in a position to get him something he wanted."

"What?"

"He's a werewolf. Voldemort was recruiting werewolves."

"Yes, but what could Voldemort possibly-?" she cut herself off. "Alex!" she gasped. "You thought Voldemort might have offered Remus the overturning of the Werewolf Registration Act?" she asked. He nodded. "Sirius, do you honestly think Alex would have wanted anythingto do with him after he sided with _Voldemort_, **_IF_**, that is, Voldemort let either of them live that long?"

Sirius looked her dead in the eyes as he said, "You don't have to explain to me why it was stupid, Renee. I already know."

"Oh."

He pulled away from woman and beast and started to pace the clearing, losing himself in his guilty thoughts, "I was a fool and a half not to trust Remus, but I managed to convince myself he was capable of the level of deceit necessary to pull it off. Then I convinced James. Little did we know that it was Peter all along."

"Did Lily ever-?"

"No. She never did accept the idea. She had doubts about the plan. Major doubts." He broke off, thinking, and then exclaimed, "Merlin! I wish we'd listened to her."

Silence fell between them, a long agonizing silence. Desperate for any topic that would steer Sirius away from thinking about the events of October, 1981, Renee suggested, "We'd better go back. I'm not fond of the idea of your mother peering out a window and spotting us."

Sirius brows knit together. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"She's dead," he stated flatly. "Snuffed it six years ago, give or take."

"How do _you_ know?"

"It was something Remus saw fit to mention," he said, then added, waving the idea away as though it were a foul odor, "He probably spotted her eulogy in the paper or something."

"Bet it was short," she commented and chanced a sly look and grin in his direction. He looked surprised at first, but when he saw her grin, a grin of his own slid up his face and settled in for the long hall as he started to laugh. His bark of a laugh rang in her ears for several minutes afterward, but she loved every moment of it.

"_Now_ we really ought to be going," Sirius said after he'd calmed down. "Or we'll wake the dead, and I'd really rather avoid that." Renee wondered what he meant by that and then remembered that the Black family cemetery took up the back half of the yard.

Sirius gave Buckbeak a final pat, changed to Padfoot and, tail swishing madly behind him, ran along the path and out of sight. Renee secured Buckbeak's chain around a tree, honored him with an appreciative smile and bow and followed Padfoot's loping steps.

They arrived back at her front door without any incident. Before turning the key in the lock, however, she turned to the canine and informed him, "Now, Padders. You do realize that this means that it is now well passed bedtime for a certain black-haired 'Bonzo.' Don't look at me like that," she added, as his tail ceased its wagging and he sent her a look of deep annoyance. "Whether you appreciate my terminology or not, you are going to bed, and I don't care what time of day it is." He gave a heavy dog-ish sigh and skidded through the doorway the instant it was opened far enough.

Renee closed and secured her door behind her and turned round to face Sirius. He was treating her to a mock-glare for which, she thought, he ought to invest in a patent.

He tried to start a protest, but she stopped him with a hand and an insistent verbal cue, "Ehnt! This isn't up for discussion. Get." She shooed him down the hall and led him to a door. "You can sleep in here," she said as she opened it.

"Isn't this your old room?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"Yes, but now it's the guest room," she offered, while he viewed the basic furnishings.

"I just have one question," he insisted as she started to walk away. "What are you going to be doing while I'm asleep?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly turning back around. She thought for a second and continued, "I'll probably go back to bed myself. I'm not fond of starting my day at three a.m."

True to her word, Renee went to her bedroom and attempted to fall asleep - not bothering to change out of her jeans - but a nagging doubt in the back of her mind kept her from doing so. It took her several minutes to realize what it was. _"He led the witness," _she thought, her eyes springing open in horror. _"He told me exactly what I was supposed to see in that newspaper picture before I saw it. Of course, I saw Wormtail! I was _expecting_ to." _She felt like such a fool. And yet...

She got out of bed and searched the pockets of the pajama pants she'd worn earlier for the bit of parchment she'd stuffed in there on her way to the attic. She found the note first, pocketed it for further examination later, and then found the picture. She took it back to her bed, flipped on the lamp on her nightstand, and studied the image once more. There he was again: the rat she'd seen a million times before. Was it possible that this boy's pet rat could simply be Wormtail's double? Could there be another rat out there exactly like him in every detail, from the slightly darker grey grease-mark that went from the bridge of his nose to his left ear to the missing right front toe? She had to admit to herself that, no matter how unlikely or implausible, it was entirely possible, and the idea had her insides clenching into a tight knot of dread.

She set the clipping on her nightstand and pulled out the note that seemed so very much like it had come from Remus. It had even been sealed with one of the wax stamps Alex had given him as a Christmas present in their third year. A smile crossed her face as she remembered the looks on their faces when he opened them. That had been the moment Renee had realized they liked each other. Though they both adamantly denied it for three additional years, the memory was indeed _priceless._

There was no way Remus would have let Sirius anywhere near those stamps... Unless, he trusted him. That settled it! She had to contact Remus. She pulled out her wand and, addressing her message to Remus Lupin, she thought of all the questions that were buzzing around in her head. _"Sirius is here. Did you really write that note? Is Sirius really innocent? Is Peter really alive? How can you be sure?_" She forced her mind back to the memory of that Christmas long ago when they'd all been together and happy, exchanging presents in the common room, and muttered,_ "Expecto patronum." _A shining silver version of her own animagus form burst from her wand, landed softly on the floor on the far north side of the room, leapt - at an angle that could just as well have been straight up - with all its might, and disappeared into the ceiling.

That done, Renee got up again and paced the room until Remus could have a chance to reply.

Fifteen minutes later, the already brightening room was again illuminated further as a familiar, brilliant, shimmering, silver cloud of mist entered from the same direction the tiger had left. It hovered in front of Renee at about wand level. As Remus' voice spoke from the midst of it, it flashed brighter in time with his speech. "Good morning, Renee. It's been a while since I've heard from you. How was Greece?" Renee rolled her eyes at this but smiled a bit as well. _"Leave it to Remus to take all the stress out of the escaped-convict-in-the-house situation." And yet, if he was acting so unconcerned... _She didn't want to get her hopes up.

"To answer your questions," the message continued, "Yes, thrice. Followed by, 'I saw him myself two nights ago.' I give you my word Renee that everything I wrote in that letter is true. Sirius is innocent of all the charges that have been brought against him. Although after Peter's escape, the only proof I have to offer you is the word of myself, Sirius and three teenagers: Harry and his two best friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. This, combined with the trust of Albus Dumbledore, _may_ well be enough for you to except the idea, but the Ministry remains unconvinced.

"I am glad to hear that you didn't kill Sirius on sight. I sent the letter with him because I had my doubts about his ability to explain himself adequately to you.

"Take care, and tell Sirius, 'Hello,' from me. Your dear friend, Remus J. Lupin."

The light slowly faded as the cloud dissipated, leaving Renee standing alone in her bedroom once more, thinking, _"Why does he always insist on using the 'J?' It's not like John is that interesting of a middle name anyway."_

Now fully assured that her doubts had been unnecessary, she returned to bed and fell asleep immediately upon her head hitting the pillow.

Hours later, she was having a very strange dream. She was on the griffin reserve in Greece, a place she hadn't been for over a year but one she knew as a second home. She was working with Abeni, a young female leonic griffin - one with the front paws and legs of a lion instead of the more typical eagle talons - who was the only child of the reserves two best breeders. Her arrival had been long anticipated and, in the dream, she had earned several impressive injuries by getting into a paws-to-talons fight with one of the males closest to her age.

Somewhere in the middle of cleaning the wounds, Renee realized she needed the bathroom. She mounted her broom and flew to the tamers station, but when she got there the door to the women's room was closed with a sign on the door saying, "Out of order."

Feeling very desperate now, she turned to the men's door and found another sign:

"Ask for key."

She went to the front desk and begged the tamer on reception duty to give her the key. On returning to the restroom, key in hand, she opened it to discover that the toilet had been replaced by a fallen log. Cursing the infernal "woodsy" people who ran the place, she closed the door behind her and... Woke up.

She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom as fast as her legs could carry her, her bladder screaming at her all the while.

After relieving herself of her body's most pressing need, she recognized the taste of cotton in her mouth, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. While she walked down the hall, she thought to herself that the broad daylight that had been flooding her bedroom since she first started to drift into unconsciousness was going to make it impossible for her to do so again. In which case, she might as well call it good enough until nightfall.

When she reached the kitchen, she found Sirius holding open the refrigerator door and sticking his head in as far as it would go in a search for sustenance.

"Good morning, Sirius," Renee said from directly behind him.

He jerked his head up in surprise and, consequently, hit it hard on the roof of the refrigerator that also served as the floor of the freezer directly above it. He let out all the air he had in his longs in a single puff, and the icebox let out a low thunk as skull and plastic collided. He pulled back from the offending cold box and turned to face his assailant, while rubbing his aching head.

"Good morning," he muttered.

She rushed to him and attempted to inspect his head as she said, concerned, "Oh Sirius! I'm so sorry! Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he insisted wearily, while brushing her concernedly fluttering hands away from his rapidly swelling head. Renee settled back reluctantly with a look of pity she hoped he wouldn't reject. But Sirius, being who he was, avoided her eyes, closed the refrigerator door and stepped away from it till he had set his back to both it and her.

"Sirius?" Renee asked, cautiously inserting a note of curiosity in her voice. He slowly turned around to face her. Upon noticing her change of expression, he visibly relaxed. He could handle curiosity much better than pity. "What were you doing in there?"

"I was looking for something," he said evasively.

"What?"

"Something I could cook."

She snorted as she tried to restrain from laughing.

"What?" he asked, indignantly.

"You can't cook."

"I wasn't trying for anything difficult," he admitted.

"Sirius," she told him seriously, "You once nearly burnt down this house trying to make toast."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that darn fool muggle contraption works without tinder?"

Renee just shook her head.

"You ruined it anyway," he muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"You were supposed to still be asleep."

She gave him an inquiring look.

"I was going to bring it to you in bed."

Her look turned to surprise. "Wow Sirius, that's..." she thought for a second. "Nice of you."

"Yeah, I guess so," he agreed unenthusiastically. "I just thought, you took me in and believed me and all, so I should try and do something for you, you know?"

"Tell you what, Sirius." Renee said, testing. Sirius looked up at her. "We'll make it together. Sound good?" She gave him a bright smile of encouragement.

He smiled back, and, again, she noticed the blue return to his eyes for a second. "Yeah," he said, "That'll work."

After they finished the meal that they agreed to call brunch, Renee and Sirius found themselves sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table lost for words and starring at each other.

Renee broke the silence, "Um, well we better clean up the dishes."

Sirius mumbled something that sounded as though it were to the affirmative and stood up. They gathered everything together and moved to the sink. Moments later, they found themselves on either side of a half-full dishwasher gazing into each other's eyes.

This time, Sirius was the first to speak, "Is there a reason you use this thing?" he asked, pointing at the strictly-muggle contraption below them, "Or is it just because it's here?"

"What? Oh! Uh, actually there is. It's far more convenient."

He gave her a 'Yeah right,' look.

"No seriously, I just put 'em all in there with some soap, shut the door, turn it on, and don't think about them again until their clean."

"You could charm them clean. That would be faster."

"Faster, but not more effective. You know me and my _scurgify_ charms," she said with a shrug.

"Hmm," Sirius grunted. He reached in his pocket for something, and then, realizing the something wasn't there, he turned to Renee. "Do you suppose I could have my wand back?"

"Oh," Renee said, remembering that she still hadn't returned it. "Yes, of course." She pulled out her own wand and pointed it in the general direction of her bedroom, "_Accio_, wand." After a moment, it came flying in from the hallway. She caught it and handed it to Sirius, who took it gratefully.

Sirius turned back to the dishwasher and passed his wand over it in a grand sweeping motion, while saying clearly, "_Scurgify_." Instantly, the food residue vanished, the scent of antibacterial agent hung in the air, and every dish sparkled as though it were brand new.

"Wow, Sirius!" Renee exclaimed, "I think I'll insist that you stay here indefinitely, so you can clean my dishes for me!"

Her statement had been in jest, but Sirius sounded serious when he said, "I don't think I can stay very long. I'm putting you in danger being here at all. I should leave tonight."

_Tonight?_ She thought, _but there was so much more she wanted to ask him, wanted to tell him, and she hadn't even had that kiss she had mentioned yet_! She shook her head and then desperately tried to think of a reason for him to stay that she could actually tell him. "No, you need a full nights' sleep, Sirius. That much is clear. I'm not letting you fly off across country on barely two hours rest."

"All right," he conceded, "But as soon as night falls tomorrow I need to be getting as far away from here as possible. I won't risk the Ministry catching you aiding and abetting for my sake."

She nodded, she could accept that.

"So, that means we've got about thirty-two hours to use up while we're together," Sirius said with a kind of forced chariness. "Got any ideas?"

"Well," Renee stalled as she pretended intense thought. "We could hang around in here," Sirius' expression dropped noticeably, "_Or_ we could go to the school grounds." Before she could finish her sentence, he was all dog again and headed in the direction of the front door, barking and wagging his tail all the while. She laughed and followed him out the door.

They spent the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon reliving childhood memories. Renee raced Padfoot up the stairs and pushed him down the slide. Padfoot found a tree branch with which they played tug-a-war and fetch. Renee got on a swing and Padfoot chased back and forth after her on the ground. Padfoot bowled Renee over and licked her face, and Renee wrestled him off and scratched him behind the ears.

Despite the facts that the last time they had been on the playground neither one of them had been a dog, their time then had been tainted by the knowledge that it would end swiftly if Sirius' parents ever found out, and their time now was eaten away by the threat of the Ministry catching up with Sirius, it was a thoroughly enjoyable day. All through it, Renee laughed and joked and Padfoot barked and wagged his tail.

"Ah, Padfoot," Renee sighed, as she scratched the great shaggy head that was resting on her stomach as she lay in the grass of the ball field. "I wish you could stay longer."

He whined and thumped his tail once in agreement.

It was then that her stomach growled, and she made the suggestion that they return home for a meal she insisted on referring to as, "l'inner."

A while later, they were sitting together on her sofa, tuna salad sandwiches resting on the coffee table in front of them.

"Tell me again what this thing is that you're making me sit through," Sirius asked, showing how little enthusiasm he had for the idea.

"It's called a movie, Sirius. You remember those, right?" she teased, as she stood and walked to the entertainment shelf to find the video she wanted.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I remember movies," he insisted. "I remember spending hours in Muggle Studies class with that wacko Professor Spellburg, 'gaining insight into the muggle awareness of magic' by watching old Bewitched episodes and fantasy flicks, which were, I might add, anything but accurate."

"Do you remember anything else about them?" Renee asked innocently, while removing the tape from its box and sliding it into the machine.

"No, not really. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"Hmm," he said suspiciously, but made no other comment. That is, until a fox Robin Hood and a bear Little John started walking through the forest together.

"I remember this!" He almost shouted it in his enthusiasm. From that time on, the screen held his rapt attention.

Renee smiled as she watched him. This was precisely for what she had been hoping.

Then the moment of full recognition dawned. Little John addressed Robin Hood, "Why don't you quit moaning and moping around? Just marry the girl." To which Robin responded, "Marry her! You don't just walk up to a girl, hand her a bouquet, and say, 'Hey, remember me? We were kids together. Wanna marry me?'"

"Stop the tape," Sirius insisted, standing up to get closer to the screen. Renee fumbled for the remote and hit the pause button. "Go back a bit." Renee hit rewind and play in rapid succession. Robin repeated his line.

"I remember," Sirius said in aw. "I remember as if it were yesterday." He walked back to his seat in a daze. "You did this on purpose so I'd remember, didn't you?" She grinned evilly at having been caught.

"What do you remember, Sirius?"

He turned to stare at her, as he said. "I proposed to you, right there in the middle of the movie, in front of everyone too: Lily and James and Alex. We were watching this movie with them, and it came to that line, and I thought it was the perfect opportunity, and I leaned over to you and said, 'Well, I don't have a bouquet, but will you take a ring?' and I handed you the one I'd been carrying around, and you... What?" He broke off because while he had been speaking one long shining silver track had been laid down her cheek.

"'Yes,'" she choked, finishing the story for him, "I said, 'Yes.'"

"Are those good tears, or...?" he never finished his question. All she could do was nod in answer. "Come here," he said quietly, and took her into his arms. "I've missed watching movies with you," he murmured.

"So've I," she agreed. "This one in particular."

He pulled back from her a little and looked into her eyes. His eyes shown a clear and startling blue, as though the heavy clouds that lingered there had finally parted to let the sun through. This time neither of them had any inclination to break the moment. It lifted and swirled around them and lost all meaning as a measure of time. Their kiss was long and sweet and gentle, something thirteen years in the making.

Eventually, they got around to finishing the movie, but neither of them paid it very close attention. It got so bad, that, about the time Skippy was shooting his arrow into Prince John's backyard, Renee had to ward off Sirius by snatching her sandwich, taking a huge bite, and saying through it in triumph, "There! Now I have tuna breath, so you'll have to find some other form of entertainment." To which Sirius responded by grabbing his own and saying, "Not if mine is worse than yours."

When it came time for bed that evening, they stood on the threshold to Sirius' sleeping quarters lost in each other and saying good night for an incalculable amount of time. Finally, Renee pulled back, whispered a last, "Good night, Sirius," and slipped down the hall. It was only just before she disappeared behind her door that she heard him say dreamily, "Good night, Renee."


End file.
